Fifty Shades of Sleep
by M M Michell
Summary: Fifty Shades of Sleep is a highly amusing and firmly tongue-in-cheek account of what happens to Ana and Grey three years in to the joys of nappies, vomit, sleepless nights - not down to passionate abandon - and all the highs and lows of parenting.
1. Chapter 1

Fifty Shades of Sleep

Prologue

Somewhere in the echoing distance a child was sobbing. He could hear the soft, slow gulps as the precious, helpless creature tried to contain its sorrow. He fought at the sound, willing it to leave his ears. I won't listen, I can't. It's too painful, I don't know if I can bear it. But it was no good. The sound pervaded his serenity with all the intensity and drama of a Rachmaninov concerto. He had to get up, he had to leave the warm, encapsulating comfort of his cocoon- like bed and seek out this plea. He was alone, he knew that, and only he could answer this call.

He slowly rolled out of his shelter and leapt, cat-like to the floor. As he padded down the richly-carpeted hallway, the cries became louder and more intense, boring into his brain like a diamond drill.

"I'm coming, I'm coming," he breathed, quickening his pace.

He entered the room behind the solid, panelled oak door and was met instantly with a horrific and heart-rending sight. The child lay, sprawled across the floor, inert, gasping, face down. What had happened, what terrors had occurred to so torture this poor soul.

" . MY. BUNNY" yelled the infant, with a guttural, animal cry that so harmed his equilibrium.

"Captain Fuck," he sighed, "the fucking bunny's fallen out of bed again."

"It's all right darling, Daddy's here."

Chapter 1

"What is it?" asked Ana, her knees trembling as her heart fluttered with the intensity of his concentration.  
"It's a pull-up nappy Mrs Grey," he hissed at her, as he ripped it out the plastic packet. "I'm going to put it on Junior now."

"But I don't know if I'm ready for that," Ana whispered, as she felt tears welling in her impossibly large, pale blue eyes. Even at 4am, after only fifteen minutes sleep, the sight of Grey's bicep as he picked up the box of pampers was too much to bear.

"I wanted to use real nappies from the start," she pouted," but you wouldn't let me." Staring back at her with that piercing glare of his, his intense grey eyes boring into her very being, he shouted "Ana. I. Might. Be. A. Billionaire. But I'm not a fucking idiot - real nappies? Honestly."

She sighed. Life with Grey had changed so much in the last three years and seven months. Looking at him, the dawn light creeping in from behind the soft, silk curtains, she found it hard to reconcile her life with Grey now with that intense, overwritten period that was the first three novels in their life so far. The chapters had shortened and the content was admittedly more PG13 than R, but she still had glimpses of the way things were. Maybe tonight, or this morning rather, would reveal one of those moments?

She sighed and he caught her melancholic gaze. "Lets just put him back to bed in the pull-up Ana, and we'll get Taylor to go fetch some more nappies in the morning." She nodded her agreement and watched as her husband lifted their beautiful, copper-haired son into bed.

"Love you Mommy. Love you Daddy." Junior yelped, as he found himself tucked in vigorously, arms and legs pinned to the mattress by the heavy, winter-weight duvet.

"Love you too darling." Ana purred, gazing adoringly at the angelic little child before them.

"Just go to fucking sleep," muttered Daddy, and stalked out the room.

Ana got up from the sumptuous armchair, upholstered with the ever so cute pattern of safari animals. Your father's a complete rhino, she thought, a fucking hyena, a complete fucking Wildebeest. But I do love him. And he is a beast.

As she walked back into their bedroom, she could see the sun just beginning to rise over the sparkling water of the Sound - out there bobbed their beautiful catamaran, The Grace. Oh what happy memories she had of their time spent on board, below deck, so to speak. She felt a blush rise across her cheeks.

She slid into their opulent, wrought-iron bed, next to the demi-god that was her husband. The years had been kind to him. He had retained that boyish quality to his face but his jaw had strengthened and his eyes deepened. His glossy, copper hair was now streaked with grey. Grey on Grey, she sighed, what a vision.

"Mrs Grey," he growled, "Get over here to my side of the bed."

"Darling…" she began, but he reached out with his grasping arms and pulled her close to him, burying his face in her neck and groaning. "Oh, Ana, oh my Ana, my beautiful, sexy Ana, you smell… you smell… oh fuck you smell like puke."

"Thanks," she whimpered her previous feelings of prowess at the happy memories of their early, rampant days, now shattered in an instant.

"But I want you anyway, I'm an animal, what can I say, It's you, it's what you do to me…" he rasped, pressing against her in his pyjama bottoms and top.

"Oh Grey," she sighed, "it's 5am, I've been vomited on twice tonight, I'm leaking milk from both breasts and I now need to pee again."

"But it's you," he sighed, "Only you, oh Ana, my Ana, my only Ana…"

She knew what she had to do, although it seemed like an eternity for her to realise it, it was only a moment, and in that moment, with heavy heart, she made her promise.

"Christian," she trembled, hoping he would relent and she could leap up to use the bathroom, "darling husband of mine…"

"Yes." He snapped, and suddenly his mood was changed in an instant, that cold, distant megalomaniac returned.

"Darling, can we please do it tomorrow, well tonight I mean?" She asked, her voice small and low.

He remained silent; she could feel the energy from his body crackling at her like static from her hairdryer.

"Christian… Sir," she pleaded, "I promise we'll do it tonight."

"Very well Mrs Grey," he relented, "But I'm going to punish you for this and what's more, I'm going to enjoy it." He snarled.

And with that he rolled over and promptly fell asleep. Oh my, she thought, what have I gotten myself into now?

Chapter 2

Anastasia sits at the cool, grey granite breakfast bar of her enormously large, sleek designer kitchen. She sighs into her latte, made for her by the wonderful Mrs Taylor.

Junior plays peacefully at her feet with a wooden toy train, calmly and methodically smashing it into the polished steel door of the gargantuan fridge freezer. Clunk, clunk, clunk: the dent increases with each accurately placed strike. So like his father, she swoons.

Her Blackberry bleeps on the table.

**From**: Christian Grey

**Subject:** Spanking

**Date:** May 3 2012 09:30

**To**: Anastasia Grey

We need to talk about spanking.

Christian Grey

CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc.

Ana splutters, her latte splattering the granite. She knew he would punish her, but _spanking_, again, he really is going too far.

**From**: Anastasia Grey

**Subject:** Off Limits

**Date:** May 3 2012 09:33

**To**: Christian Grey

I thought we agreed this topic was off limits.

Anastasia Grey

Full time Mother and Domestic Goddess

She takes a deep breath and braces her for the full onslaught of his temper. Lately Fifty has been pushing her boundaries on a lot of things. She wonders again if she has made a mistake in marrying him. At the moment his temper with her is so short. Maybe it's the long nights, the lack of sleep, the pee stains in their imported Persian carpets. She doesn't know but she has to find out – their marriage depends on it.

**From**: Christian Grey

**Subject:** No Limits

**Date:** May 3 2012 09:37

**To**: Anastasia Grey

I refer to our earlier discussion on this topic regarding Hard and Soft Limits. Spanking is not a hard limit, it's not illegal, lots of people resort to it. What exactly is your problem?

Christian Grey

CEO and firm supporter of pro-spanking group FFS Spank, Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc

Ana snorts. This really is unbelievable of him, she may even have to reconsider the promise she made in the early hours of this morning.

**From**: Anastasia Grey

**Subject:** Psychological Studies

**Date:** May 3 2012 09:39

**To**: Christian Grey

I refer to a recent paper published in the American Journal of Psychologists (September 2012 edition) which clearly stated that spanking is both mentally and developmentally damaging and should never be used, even in extreme circumstances.

Anastasia Grey

Full time Mother and Chair of anti-spanking lobby PAINNSpank

**From**: Christian Grey

**Subject:** Extreme Circumstances

**Date:** May 3 2012 09:46

**To**: Anastasia Grey

Is Junior bashing the fridge with his toy train again?

Christian Grey

CEO and firm supporter of pro-spanking group FFS Spank (Fathers For Spanking), Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc

**From**: Anastasia Grey

**Subject:** Are you watching our CCTV?

**Date:** May 3 2012 09:39

**To**: Christian Grey

He is.

Anastasia Grey

Full time Mother and Chair of anti-spanking lobby PAINSpank (Parents Against Intervention of Non Necessary Spanking)

**From**: Christian Grey

**Subject:** FFS – For Fucks Sake

**Date:** May 3 2012 09:46

**To**: Anastasia Grey

Then you need to give him a bloody smack Ana – I'm not having him ruin our fridge.

Christian Grey

CEO and wielder of a very sharp palm, Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc

Oh my, sighed Ana, who knew we were going to have such different parenting styles.


	2. Chapter 2

Ana sighed. It really was priceless of Grey to begin another conversation concerning smacking poor, precious Junior, especially when she had reacted so strongly to the suggestion previously. The child wasn't at all unruly, he was just boisterous – he had an independent streak and was, admittedly, fond of taking out his independence on the furniture. But they were incredibly wealthy multi-billionaires so what was the odd Andy Warhol canvas here or new Ipad there? If only she could get him out of the peeing on floors habit…

"C'mon Junior darling," she breezed, "Lets go see if the twins are awake."

Up in the 300square foot nursery, the twins lay blissful in their matching, antique cribs. What a beautiful sight. At first she had been apprehensive at the prospect of three children under three, but she was actually finding it a very relaxed experience. And girls were so different to boys. They were calm, the slept and woke at regular times, they had no interest at all in their poo…

"Buenos Dias Mrs Grey." Smiled Carmelita, their short, 54 year old Peruvian nanny.

Ana smiled, "Buenos Dias Carmelita."

Ana found it admittedly difficult to hand over the care of her children to another woman, albeit a Mother of six, Grandmother of eleven and Great-Grandmother of four. She still felt so fiercely independent when it came to their care and everyday needs. But of course Christian insisted on a nanny. And Carmelita could teach the children Spanish. At least she wasn't attractive… but then Christian did have a famous fondness for older women, "Hmmmmm," she thought.

"What would you like me to do today Mrs Grey," asked Carmelita smiling.

"Well Carmelita I'm just going to feed the girls and then you could possibly help me out in a few small ways today." Ana paused, her gaze momentarily attracted to Junior pushing small pieces of Lego into his sisters' cribs. "How sweet," she thought, "He so wants to share with his sisters."

"Well Carmelita," she sighed, "It's just a case of bathing and clothing the girls, giving them their breakfast, taking them for a short walk in their stroller, giving them a small snack at about 11am, putting them down for their morning nap, waking them at 1pm, giving them their lunch, playing with them in the playroom for the afternoon, putting them down for their afternoon nap, waking them, giving them their dinner then bathing them, reading them their stories and I'll pick up from there." She paused, "Is that ok"

"Si, Si, Mrs Grey."

"Perfect," said Ana and she sat down to nurse her girls in the beautiful, antique armchair.

Ana left the warm comfort of the nursery and strolled back down the hallway of their magnificently restored home. Sometimes it was a little tiresome that it took a full eleven minutes to walk from her bedroom down to the kitchen. Maybe they should have a lift installed?

Thoughts of Grey filled her head. He was so all-consuming and demanded her attention constantly. It was like having a fourth child she felt; only this child was a fully grown man with a vociferous sexual appetite. And he was just so annoying. There would no doubt be some chilly email awaiting her. It really wasn't feasible to check her blackberry while she was breastfeeding but he just couldn't seem to understand.

She sat down with her Ipad at her sleek, modern glass desk. She had set Junior to play with his blocks on the beautiful silk rug at her feet. He really was so good at amusing himself.

Sure enough her inbox contained four new messages. "Typical," she huffed, "he can't even leave me alone for forty-five minutes."

**From**: Christian Grey

**Subject:** Later baby

**Date:** May 3 2012 10.15

**To**: Anastasia Grey

Just imagining tonight Mrs Grey - don't think for a minute I've forgotten your promise of 05.25 hours.

Christian Grey

CEO and master of anticipation, Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc.

A second message followed.

**From**: Christian Grey

**Subject:** Concerned Husband

**Date:** May 3 2012 10.23

**To**: Anastasia Grey

While I am very busy in a meeting with the CEO of PepsiCo, the Attorney General and Kofi Annan, I am still concerned to know how much you are anticipating tonight's activities. Getting worried Mrs Grey?

Christian Grey

CEO and concerned husband, Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc.

And after that a third.

**From**: Christian Grey

**Subject:** Annoyed Husband

**Date:** May 3 2012 10.34

**To**: Anastasia Grey

Ignoring this won't make it go away Ana.

Christian Grey

CEO and annoyed sadist husband (bad news for you), Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc.

And finally.

**From**: Christian Grey

**Subject:** Very impatient, concerned and annoyed husband

**Date:** May 3 2012 10.41

**To**: Anastasia Grey

You are not answering my emails and you have turned off the CCTV again. Do I need to come home from work?

Christian Grey

CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc.

"Dear God!" Exclaimed Ana. She picked up her phone and hit 7 for his direct number.

"Hello," the commanding voice answered her, sending a tingle of excitement up her spine. Maybe this was a bad idea? But no, she had to face this head on.

"Christian you have to stop emailing me at home all the time, really I'm fine." She said nervously, hoping he couldn't detect the anxious tone in her voice. Silence answered her from the other end of the phone.

"And as to tonight, yes, of course, I'll keep to my word. You don't need to go on and on about it, I'm sure I won't be too tired, and if I am, well, you know, I'm sure we'll enjoy it anyway."

Silence still – could he be this angry already?

"Christian for goodness sake answer me – stop being such a child about this, if I say I'll have sex with you tonight then I will!"

"Erm, Mrs Grey, Mam, Mr Grey just stepped out for a moment, we were expecting a call from the President, Mam, so I answered the phone. It's Green, here Mam, Secretary for Health."

Anastasia Grey turned a shade of deep crimson. Christian would eviscerate her for this.

"Um, ok Green," She mumbled, "Just please tell him I called."

"Sure will Mam." He replied.

Oh dear Christ, sighed Ana. Why were these things always happening to her? There was the time she had called Christian in a panic, while he was in a meeting with his Eco-African charity, to say she thought she had found a fifty cent piece in Junior's poo. It turned out to be an undigested piece of mango. How was she to know she was on speaker phone?Or the time she'd accidentally sent him to work with a flask of her chilled breast-milk in his lunch bag. Baby-brain sure was a bind, especially when your husband was a globally-significant billionaire with a newly discovered interest in politics.

Ana sighed. At least she could turn her hand to her own empire of sorts, Grey Publishing, which now boasted three authors on the New York Times best-seller list and a burgeoning e-publishing division. She leafed through the synopsis on her desk, frowning at the small grammatical errors and naïve prose.

"The enormously huge, hazel eyes gazed down at her from beneath a shock of think, black-ebony hair…" she read. What was this dirge? "An impossibly young, naïve, southern-belle moves to Washington DC where she meets, by chance, and older, commanding, incredibly controlling, politician, who draws her in to his world of swinging, dogging and lobbying government."

"I mean, honestly," Ana harrumphed, "Who on earth would read that kind of crap?"

What she was looking for was something new, something different, something that would catapult Grey Publishing into the major league. Never mind vampire high school romances or post apocalyptic alien love triangles, she needed something solid, something American, something real. A proper family saga – like The Waltons only with moderate sex and violence. She would have to keep looking. And in the meantime, Junior was peeing on the carpet again.

"Oh sweetheart!" She sighed.


End file.
